


Apple Cider & Other Hot Things

by iamRemedy



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Halloween, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 01:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamRemedy/pseuds/iamRemedy
Summary: Barry skips out on a Halloween party to take care of you when you're sick.





	Apple Cider & Other Hot Things

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 2,764 
> 
> Wanted to write a short and sweet Halloween fic for Barry and managed to get it done just before the end of the holiday (it's 10:23 here shh) Hope you enjoy and hope you had a great Halloween! :)

You outwardly groan, forcing your arms through the holes of your sweater, eyes shut as your head pokes out. Your hair flops into your face and you huff to clear your vision. You quickly run a brush through your unruly hair, choking on hairspray but too tired to do anything about it. You start to cough, unsure if it’s due to your cold or the hair spray. Maybe a terrible mix of both. 

You honestly don’t even _ want _to go to this party. Your initial plan had been to stay home, make yourself some hot cocoa, and binge crappy Halloween movies. But then Sally, one of your colleagues from acting class, had decided to throw a party and invite you. You had been ready to decline her offer, but your friend Barry interjected, practically begging you to go. 

That was a week ago, and now you wanted to go even less. You’d managed to catch a cold overnight, but you promised Barry you would go and you hated upsetting him. It often left a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his crestfallen look. That’s why you continued to power through your sickness, chugging cold and flu medicine with a few cups of coffee sprinkled in. You wouldn’t miss this party for the end of the world, you were confident in that fact. 

Emphasis on the _ were. _

You sneeze into your arm, which then switches to you coughing and hacking. Figuring that you have some time before you need to head out, you collapse into a heap onto your couch, flicking the T.V. on. The 1984 version of _ The Nightmare on Elm Street _ is playing, so you leave it alone. You let your arm dangle lazily off the side of the couch, remote slipping from your grasp. Stifling a yawn with the couch cushion, your eyes become heavier and heavier before you’re unable to keep them open. _ Maybe a little nap will be nice… _

  
_ BANGBANGBANG _

“...huh?” Facedown on the couch, you lift your head up and squint at the harsh light that greets your eyes. You will yourself to sit up, whining at the stiffness of your limbs, and rub your head in confusion. _ Did I pass out…? _

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to wake yourself up, brain throbbing in protest. Loud, persistent knocks that worsen your headache bring your attention back to what had roused you in the first place. You massage your temples, quickly fixing your hair and mumbling, "M'coming…" The person pounding at your door (obviously) didn't hear you, knocking once more.

"I'm coming!" you shout, biting back your annoyance. You force yourself to stand, steadying yourself on the arm of the couch when you almost fall down. On shaky knees, you make your way to the apartment door without thinking to check the peephole and swing it open. 

You stand there for a moment, brows furrowed when you’re met with a chest. You realize that the chest belongs to someone taller than you, so you look up to see who. "Oh, Barry," your voice is raspy, so you clear your throat, "hey. What's up?" 

"Did you get my messages?" he asks, eyes flickering between you and the room behind you, perhaps checking for guests, a mess, something else. 

"Uh," you fumble around for your phone, almost dropping it in the process. Barry's arm twitches at his side, but you’re able to catch it. When you unlock it, you find five unopened messages (four from Barry, one from Sally) and a missed call from Barry along with a voicemail. You frown, guilt making your skull pound. "I'm sorry, Barry. I fell asleep on the couch." 

You look up at him, noticing how his worried expression softens into something else. "Are you okay?" His voice is soft as he gives you a quick onceover. "You don't look so good." 

"Gee, thanks." Your attempt at sarcasm makes your voice crack and cheeks warm. "That party's still going on, right? Why don't we go to that?" 

Barry’s sky blue eyes widen, brows raised incredulously. “You can’t go out like this.” 

“I’m fine. It’s just a little cold.” You roll your eyes and move to walk past him, but he extends an arm to stop you. You sigh, don’t fight back, and lean into his side in defeat, mentally kicking yourself for giving in so quickly. Your voice is a hushed whisper when you say, “_ Fine _.” 

“I’m staying here,” Barry says with confidence in his tone. He looks off to the side and sheepishly adds, “If that’s okay.” 

“Barry, no, you don’t have to,” you try to object, but _ he insists _ and leads you into your apartment with a hand on your waist. You hate to admit that you probably would’ve collapsed had he not been there. 

Barry helps you sit down on the couch, subtly glancing around the room, eyes glowing with curiosity. You’ve been to his place a few times to hang out or pick him up for acting classes, but this is the first time he’s been in your apartment. You’re a bit embarrassed, to say the least. 

“Sorry about the mess.” You sniffle and reach for a tissue on the coffee table. There’s a couple of pizza boxes and bottles of various drinks littering the floor from where you’d been too lethargic to clean up after yourself. 

“It’s okay.” He stops observing the ceiling and looks at you with a reassuring smile. Your heart swells, and you briefly wonder if that’s a symptom of your cold. 

"Uh, you can sit down if you want," you offer, leaning forward to take your shoes off. You gently place them under the coffee table and curl up into a ball on the couch, watching as Barry continues to look around your house.

"Nice place," Barry comments, rather than responding to your statement. His hands are jammed into the pockets of his dark jeans, head shifting around as he takes in more of his surroundings. He doesn't give you time to thank him for the compliment, pointing towards the kitchen as he faces you. "You want something to drink?" 

You open your mouth to argue, close it because you know he won't listen to you anyways, and sigh in defeat. "There's some," you twirl your hand in the air as you try to remember what the drink is called, "apple cider in the fridge." 

Barry grins, "Coming right up," and practically bounces into the kitchen. 

You gaze at his retreating form, a fond smile tugging at your mouth. You nuzzle further into the couch, pull your sleeves down to cover your hands, cough into your fist. Grabbing the remote, you turn up the T.V. volume. _ The Nightmare on Elm Street _ had ended quite some time ago; _ Hocus Pocus _was on now. 

Barry returns a moment later, cradling a hot cup in both of his hands. His steps are careful and deliberate as he approaches you. "I added some cinnamon to it after I heated it up." His head is still down when he's standing in front of you, eyes lifting slightly so he can look at you. "You're not allergic to cinnamon, are you?" 

You shake your head in response and take the hot apple cider from him. It warms your hands to an almost painful extent. "Thank you," you mutter into the cup, carefully lifting it to your lips. 

He smiles, his gaze slipping away to see what's on the T.V. His body is stiff, his right hand clutching the strap of his satchel. 

Your tone is amused when you set your cup down on a coaster. "You know you can sit down." 

Barry jumps as if he hadn't expected you to speak. He looks down at the couch, at you, then clears his throat. "Right, yeah," he grabs at the collar of his dress shirt, "_ I knew that. _" He takes a seat to your right, leaving enough space so that the two of you aren't touching. He seems extremely uncomfortable, sitting straight as a board. 

You grab the cup, take another sip, and watch him over the rim. "You good there, buddy?" 

He turns his head a bit too quickly, eyebrows high. "Huh?" 

You tip your cup at him. "You look like you're about to pop a blood vessel or something." 

“Oh! No, I’m okay,” Barry murmurs, staring down at his hands in his lap. 

You knit your eyebrows at him then turn to face the T.V., certain that something’s up. _ Maybe he’s nervous. _You watch him in your peripherals as he slips his shoes off, gently placing them beside the coffee table, much like you had done earlier yet on the opposite end. He then stretches his arms up into the air, emitting a quiet groan, and lets them fall back down to rest on the back of the couch. His left hand barely grazes your shoulder, and you’re relieved to see he’s getting comfortable. 

“So,” he exhales, gesturing lazily towards the television, “what’s this movie about?” 

You sniffle, your nose twitching as you fight back a sneeze. Your voice sounds nasally when you speak. “You’ve never seen _ Hocus Pocus _?” He shakes his head in response. “Well, you’re missing out. It’s a classic.” 

"Oh? Do enlighten me." Barry's smirking as he turns to face you, giving you his full attention. 

"Well, I could just rewind it, actually." Your cheeks grow warm from… _ something _ as you grab the remote and hit the rewind button. You hit play when it's at the very beginning of the movie, setting the remote back on the coffee table. You lean back to get cozy again, your leg rubbing up against Barry's. _ He's really warm. _You gulp at the thought. "Uh… this way, we can fast forward through the commercials." 

Barry hums in response but seems more preoccupied by his phone. He sends whoever he's messaging a text. A sick feeling settles in your stomach at the sight. Perhaps it's another symptom of your cold? 

"Sorry about that." He looks at you with a lopsided smile and the sick feeling eases up. "Sally was asking about you." 

"Oh, shit," you hiss, heart jumping with guilt. "You were already at the party, weren't you? I'm sorry you had to leave because of me." 

"No, no, no, it's okay," Barry says quickly, waving his hands back in forth. "I'm not much of a party person anyways." 

You sigh, "Thank God," and push your hair out of your face. You look down at your hands, picking at your fingernails. "You should probably get back to Sally, though." 

Barry leans forward so he can make eye contact with you. "Why do you say that?" 

"You guys are dating," you say, and your heart jumps when his eyes widen in surprise. You lift your head, confusion seeping into your bones. "Right?" 

"What? No! What gave you that idea?" He sounds shocked, voice higher than usual, his face visibly reddening.

You feel your cheeks get warmer from secondhand embarrassment. You start to stutter, "I-I just thought… you guys hang out a lot and- you seem really close. I'm sorry-" 

Barry groans, rests his elbows on his knees, buries his face in his hands. He starts muttering to himself then scrubs a hand down his face. He looks at you and laughs, though you're not sure what he finds so funny. 

You punch his arm, thinking he's making fun of you, and try to ignore the throbbing pain in your hand the action causes. "Jerk," you say, but you're smiling. 

"Come on, we're missing the movie." His tone is amused as he faces the television, arm resting on the back of the couch once more. You both wear stupid grins that won't leave your faces. 

The two of you go back to watching the movie, an inch of space separating you. Leaning forward, you grab your hot apple cider and take a sip from it. You have to refrain from spitting it out because your 'hot apple cider' suddenly isn't so hot anymore. 

You set the cup down on the coaster and curl into a ball, shivering. Your first instinct is to find a new source of warmth, that source being Barry. You lean into his side without even thinking and you flinch when he goes rigid at your touch. Your breath hitches as you prepare to scoot away, but then his arm is around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

"Are you cold?" Barry asks, voice just above a whisper. 

"N-No, I'm fine." Your heart is beating fast, cheeks ablaze. You're certain this is how you'll die. 

"Let me know if you need anything." 

You nod, gently laying your head on his chest as he sinks further into the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. His warmth comforts you and his heartbeat soothes you; you swear it's beating as hard as yours. You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to doze off. 

Barry says your name.

You mumble, "hm?" 

"I think I love you." 

Your eyes snap open, you quickly jump away from him, you leave your hands on his chest. "Y-You _ think _ ?" Your eyes are wide as saucers, a mix of shock, confusion, _ relief _. 

Barry shakes his head, face contorting painfully. "No, I mean," he looks at you, "I _ know _ I do. I always have." 

Your mouth is agape, a weird strangled noise coming out rather than words.

He sounds close to tears when he asks, "Do you love me?" When he hears himself, he clears his throat, looking down at your hands still clutching his shirt, his worried gaze meeting your own.

You cough, "_ Holy shit _. Of course I do, Barry.." Your lips stretch into a smile when his eyes light up and his grin is back. 

Barry exhales, "That's really great to hear. I had this whole scenario planned out in my head where you rejected me and I got really sad and I'm just glad that- whOA!" 

You tug him towards you by his shirt, intent on shutting him up with a kiss because that's romantic and shit but you just end up bonking heads. "Ow! I'm sorry," you hiss, rubbing your forehead and extending a hand towards him to make sure he's okay. "Did I hurt you? Do you have dain bramage?" 

Barry stops rubbing his own head, looking at you. And then he laughs. A genuine, boisterous laugh that makes you join in despite the stupidity of the joke. He snorts and that makes the two of you howl even more. "_ Dain bramage _," he says under his breath with a little chuckle, eyes sparkling as they meet yours once more. They glance down to your lips then back up, and suddenly he's leaning in, gently placing a large hand on your cheek.

You meet him in the middle, instantly melting into the kiss with a content sigh. You part for a moment in order to breathe, but you're not done yet, so you go back in for more. You push forward as the kiss becomes more and more intense, knocking Barry onto his back, to which he groans in your mouth. You shudder at the feeling of his hand snaking up your shirt, gently gliding up to your breast. His hands are freezing compared to your scorching skin. Only then do you pull away, breathless and mind dazed. 

"W-W-Wait," you stammer through deep breaths, gazing down at Barry. He looks disheveled, which is honestly a hot look on him, and you want him now more than ever but you have to stay focused. 

"What's wrong?" he questions you, his eyes translating the sentence to _ Did I do something wrong? _

"It's not you, Barry," you start, grimacing at how poorly you'd phrased it. "I just… I don't want you to get sick." 

He seems grateful that _ that's _the reason you're stopping, pulls you back down to him and kisses your neck. "Don't worry. I have a really good immune system." 

It was a wild Halloween night for you. You never finished _ Hocus Pocus _ , had sex with the guy you'd been denying your feelings for for like… _ months _. 

And Barry was wrong. Barry did not have a really good immune system. He woke up sick the next morning and you spent fifteen minutes making fun of him before you started choking on your own spit. The two of you spent the day in bed, soaking each other in. 

Mr. Cousineau was gonna have a fit from all the classes the two of you would miss.

  
  



End file.
